strangers again
by Whinnie
Summary: This is what it must feel like to say the right things to the wrong person. — a drabble having nothing and everything to do with Maka.


_**strangers again**_**  
><strong>_by _**Whinnie**

_even weapons, in the end, are only human.  
>and everybody makes mistakes.<br>- _

"Soul?"

Wooden door slowly creaks open, and he feels her lightly step into his carpeted room. At first, he tries to even out his breathing – pretend he is asleep, hoping she'll go away – but she only comes closer towards him.

"Soul? You're not sleeping, are you?"

Quietest of footsteps move toward him, and he mumbles something incomprehensible, wishing that she would _just leave_, but suddenly, he stiffens up as he feels a cold hand come in contact with his shoulder.

"Hey, baka." Angry huff is heard from her – or maybe she is _only annoyed_ this time – as she tugs at him, pleading for him to look at her, acknowledge her presence. "I know you're awake, so turn around. I can tell by your wavelength, too, in case you've forgotten, Mr. Cool Guy. Hey, are you d—?"

Twisting rapidly around to face her, kicking away his blankets – he doesn't _need_ distractions at this time of night, when he all ready has to face _enough of them_ during day – he looks up and sees her gasp, pull away from him, eyes wide. Satisfaction floods his veins at this success of terrifying her, but he also feels regret, instant remorse at causing her to startle, so he decides, _"No more scares for tonight."_

"Oi," he softly calls out, so that she knows it is _actually him_. "_Freeze!"_ her body practically screams out to her, to him, as she stiffens up, but then her expression melts into something painful, something worried.

"Sorry," tumbles out from her lips as she kneels down at his bedside, and he lets out a little laugh – maybe because he is _relieved_? – before patting her head and, still chuckling, replies, "But you didn't do anything. It was **me**;" yet her head shakes back and forth in a silent no.

"Were you afraid of me?" he immediately asks, as her hands quickly search around for his, desperately – _a bit too desperately_, he can't help but think – clasping them once they are found; _"she's practically freezing_," is his next thought, and he wants to pull away, but refrains from doing so. One shake of her head, she gives, and another… then a reluctant nod.

"Sorry," repeated again softly, her head bent down so that jagged bangs hide dull _wide awake _eyes. "I thought that you were…" pauses and searches for an appropriate word, continuing when it is found; "…gone for a moment, back to the Black Blood, when you looked at me…" Eyebrow raises, his, as she struggles once again. "There was this… _crazed_ look in your eyes;" it sounds as if she is forcing to get the words out.

"Well—" insert sigh here, from him "—then I should be apologizing." He can't help but reach out, raise her chin so that she sees his face, and give her one of his gentle, _tender_ smiles. Nor can she stop the small one – barely visible, but to him, the only thing in his sights – from spreading across her face as soon as she sees him looking so… unlike his usual loud, gruff self.

"Um…" her smile disappears at this point "…Soul, do you… I mean, would you mind if…" he also begins to frown and must strain towards her to hear her next words, tiny and timid: "…can I sleep here tonight?"

_The future is so predictable_, knows his mind, along with what will happen next; but he is still taken aback. Pretending to be ignorant, slipping careless expression onto face, he sits up – arms stretched towards ceiling and sky – and yawns. "Yeah, sure," voice resounds blearily around the room. "I guess I'll take the couch then."

He sits on the edge of the mattress, making as if he was going to slip off and out the door, but catches her downcast expression. Then, body stops unwillingly, head leans forward towards hers without his mind's command, and ear catches the whispered words which he knows will say something similar to; "Oh… but… I want to sleep with you…"

Now he knows that there is no escape; he absolutely _cannot_ refuse once those words are said. A sigh leaves him, and with it so does his previous, idiotic goal. Resignedly moving back to his pillow, he pats the place next to him and invites her; she innocently smiles at him, scrambling next to his warm body and lying down. Choice made, decision set, covers are pulled over by him and she snuggles into him, almost automatically.

Then, arm wraps around her small body reluctantly; he wants to pull away, just pull away and _get out of there as soon as possible_, but a small voice within – _his?_ – whispers, _"No, you promised, promised to stay;"_ and so he doesn't move and his arm pulls her closer to him, even though it's shivering and cold and body's freezing and heat's being sucked out of—

"Soul, am I bothering you?"

"Huh?" Becoming even sharper, on alert, his mind still forces his body to pretend – to continue moving around, adjust himself around her comfortably – yet it is futile, he knows.

"I am, aren't I?" Playing on her face is a smile, and he has _no idea_ how he can see that taunting almost-smirk through the tense darkness.

Response of, "No" finally comes out, but he knows it is _too late_. She knows; the smile transforms to a confused expression, and she buries her head into his chest.

He feels her take a deep breath – maybe to _calm herself down_, or just inhale him and his scent – and when her head looks upward to him again, her voice is quiet but clear; "You don't have to lie."

It hits him hard, like a pound of bricks – like that time they had been fighting that kishin, and he had been thrown out of her grasp and smack-dab into a wall – he was speechless, and is. Before anything else, though, he hears a soft sigh, and feels her push away from him.

"S'ok," grumbled under her breath, "I'll sleep on my own tonight" – prepares to sit up and leave, but then squeals as he grabs her around the waist once again, tickling her slightly.

"Wait," he whispers, almost desperately, "don't go. Yet. Tell me how you know. I'm not lying."

Thoughtful pause – or at least, he thinks that she is thinking. Then she turns around, beams at him, and, before crawling back into the bed next to him, murmurs, "That was the same tone of voice you used when you said that you loved me."

Eyes widen in shock; he wants to jump up, push her away; that actually **hurt**. She must sense this because she turns around to face him, the smile wiped off of her face. But she isn't angry; she knows what she's doing.

"It's fine if you don't, Soul," she murmurs quietly. "I … I understand. But since this is your last night here – possibly the last night we'll ever spend together … could you just say it one last time and pretend to mean it? Please?"

Still dazed at how she knows – how she came to realize something that even he himself is just beginning to see – he simply nods numbly. _If this is what a lie is … it feels good to do it._

She sighs, turns around again. "I love you, Soul," he hears, feeling her close her eyes and drift off to sleep.

_Lies are necessary to live._

"I love you too," he responds, mustering every bit of feeling he has left and putting it into that one _complicated_ sentence.

_Lies cover up the truths we can't handle._

He lays awake for what seems forever, staring at the ceiling, long after his partner has dozed off. Thinking of the future … after tomorrow … _what will happen when he leaves? _Will everything turn back to normal?

_What _is_ normal anyway?_

He shifts so that he is facing her, finally. "I love you …" he breathes out to the back of her head, when – in reality, in fantasy – he is saying it to the face of someone else, to the past he thought he'd forgotten, to the mistake he thought he'd made when, really, it was the only thing that _had ever gone_ _right in his life._

"I love you," he clearly whispers to the person who was always there but isn't now.

"Maka."


End file.
